Prologue: From the darkness: Part two.
Mar 26, 2021 19:24:11 GMT -5
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Oh-Oh and Jesse Jamester like this
Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2021 19:24:11 GMT -5
This was it. Any moment now, they would slit her throat, or inject her with poison, maybe they’d beat her to death…or worse, perhaps they intended to torture her.
Pull her finger and toenails out, one by one. Break each digit, slowly, beat her, ravish her. The possibilities were endless. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she prayed that regardless of what method they had chosen, that her end would come quick.
As her imagination shifted from one potential gruesome fate to another, she was blind to what was happening before her.
Several of the shrouded figures were uneasy about what they were about to do. At least on now stood away from the collective. Could the collective be not in agreement?
”We do not wish you harm. For now.” The delay before stating ’For now.’ was a statement in and of itself, and a reminder that at any time they could make her disappear and only one man would ever know what really happened.
One man who was the common thread winded through them all. A man who had, in fact, been quite busy since leaving the world of wrestling in disgrace.
”You will find him for us. You will bring him back. Then you may go back about your sinful ways. No wonder he rejected you.”
Scared and confused, tears flowed continuously at the cutting insult as activity renewed itself among the figures. Her ex-fiance had cut her out following the worst moment of his career. He disappeared seemingly into the aether itself.
In the confusion and swirl of emotions that followed, she kissed his rival when he called upon her to offer his support. ’He’ never forgave her. ‘He’ considered it a betrayal, yet she hadn’t taken another man into her bed since. She still loved him. And he her.
Though love isn’t always enough.
”H-h-how?” Her voice was little more than a whimper, the emotional exhaustion, added to her screaming herself hoarse had left her silky toned purr, wanting.
The Justices scattered to each side of a lowering screen as a projector springs to life.
The typical back and forth of liberal and conservative coverage of the COVID-19 pandemic starts.
Features on New York, Los Angeles…and finally, Atlanta.
Film of protests and police brutality lead to riots, fires and footage of a mass crowd pelting the CNN building with everything from rocks to debris from police barricades. Slowly another story appears.
“Would be mugger brutally beaten by passerby” the words “came from nowhere”, “saved my life”, “laughed as he beat all three at once” and finally “disappeared into thin air” are all zoomed in on from the witness’ statement.
Coronavirus pandemic numbers roll upward and election madness begins showing up, another local Atlanta story emerges. “Bankhead: Attempted assault foiled by homeless veteran?”
A bewildered looking young woman is center screen now, a mixture of terror and fascination held in her eyes. A slight scrape mars her otherwise perfect caramel complexion.
“These boys was fixin’ to do me real nasty…then this dude he comes outta nowhere...” Her arms are flailing as she relays her story. “He didn’t even start whoopin’ they asses. He looked homeless and started by asking them to leave, then they told him to go *BLEEP*ing. Dude said they were being rude….he didn’t like that.” Trailing off, the poor girl is pressed for details by a hapless on the scene reporter motioning for her to continue.
“Is that when he carved into them?” The camera shows two of the three assailants as they are handcuffed and placed into police cruisers. Each sporting fresh bandages to their foreheads soaked with blood.
“Nah lady, he kicked their asses first, then pinned one down while the other two was out. When that one passed out like a bitch…sorry, I probably can’t say bitch on TV huh?” Pointing to the final assailant, the young lady finished with the line the reporter really wanted. “Anyways, that’s when he carved ‘rapist’ into they foreheads. Dude’s a sick f…..”
The report stops flatly, crashing to black. Alyssa sits, long ago ceasing to fight her restraints, she’s in shock.
She had known her former fiancé was a professional wrestler, and that he was a capable fighter. She’d seen him destroy the knee of a would be assailant at a bar years before, but this?
He himself had told her he had done some questionable things whilst grief stricken and acting as a Judge on behalf of the Justices, but this? This was not the man who had shared her bed, was it?
A half a dozen other similar reports followed, eventually christening him ‘the Bankhead Boogeyman’.
Each time, ‘he’ appeared, it was the same story. Usually, but not always, it was a female.
Each time he came to the aid of someone in danger from seemingly insurmountable opposition.
Each time ‘he’ was increasingly brutal, but stopped short of taking life.
Each time, ‘he’ left a message.
And to make sure the message was received, he left it carved into the flesh of the would-be aggressor. He was labelling them. One at a time, he was labelling them.
The wicked would bare their crimes etched upon their skin for the rest of their days. They would carry them wherever they went.. Just as he did.
“You will go to Atlanta and you will find him and bring him back unharmed. Anything less than that voids our agreement. You will be released, given a way to contact us and watched. Any attempt to contact authorities will result in severe penalties…” the projector jumps to life once more, pictures, recent pictures, of her family and friends flash upon the screen.
These weren’t staged pictures or even pics ripped from her social media. These showed the one message they needed her to understand. ‘They’ could get to anyone.
She understood completely, ‘they’ didn’t play games. If she didn’t do as she was instructed, their subtlety spoke volumes.
Failure meant death, sure, but not before she watched everyone she cared about suffer first.
Pull her finger and toenails out, one by one. Break each digit, slowly, beat her, ravish her. The possibilities were endless. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she prayed that regardless of what method they had chosen, that her end would come quick.
As her imagination shifted from one potential gruesome fate to another, she was blind to what was happening before her.
Several of the shrouded figures were uneasy about what they were about to do. At least on now stood away from the collective. Could the collective be not in agreement?
”We do not wish you harm. For now.” The delay before stating ’For now.’ was a statement in and of itself, and a reminder that at any time they could make her disappear and only one man would ever know what really happened.
One man who was the common thread winded through them all. A man who had, in fact, been quite busy since leaving the world of wrestling in disgrace.
”You will find him for us. You will bring him back. Then you may go back about your sinful ways. No wonder he rejected you.”
Scared and confused, tears flowed continuously at the cutting insult as activity renewed itself among the figures. Her ex-fiance had cut her out following the worst moment of his career. He disappeared seemingly into the aether itself.
In the confusion and swirl of emotions that followed, she kissed his rival when he called upon her to offer his support. ’He’ never forgave her. ‘He’ considered it a betrayal, yet she hadn’t taken another man into her bed since. She still loved him. And he her.
Though love isn’t always enough.
”H-h-how?” Her voice was little more than a whimper, the emotional exhaustion, added to her screaming herself hoarse had left her silky toned purr, wanting.
The Justices scattered to each side of a lowering screen as a projector springs to life.
The typical back and forth of liberal and conservative coverage of the COVID-19 pandemic starts.
Features on New York, Los Angeles…and finally, Atlanta.
Film of protests and police brutality lead to riots, fires and footage of a mass crowd pelting the CNN building with everything from rocks to debris from police barricades. Slowly another story appears.
“Would be mugger brutally beaten by passerby” the words “came from nowhere”, “saved my life”, “laughed as he beat all three at once” and finally “disappeared into thin air” are all zoomed in on from the witness’ statement.
Coronavirus pandemic numbers roll upward and election madness begins showing up, another local Atlanta story emerges. “Bankhead: Attempted assault foiled by homeless veteran?”
A bewildered looking young woman is center screen now, a mixture of terror and fascination held in her eyes. A slight scrape mars her otherwise perfect caramel complexion.
“These boys was fixin’ to do me real nasty…then this dude he comes outta nowhere...” Her arms are flailing as she relays her story. “He didn’t even start whoopin’ they asses. He looked homeless and started by asking them to leave, then they told him to go *BLEEP*ing. Dude said they were being rude….he didn’t like that.” Trailing off, the poor girl is pressed for details by a hapless on the scene reporter motioning for her to continue.
“Is that when he carved into them?” The camera shows two of the three assailants as they are handcuffed and placed into police cruisers. Each sporting fresh bandages to their foreheads soaked with blood.
“Nah lady, he kicked their asses first, then pinned one down while the other two was out. When that one passed out like a bitch…sorry, I probably can’t say bitch on TV huh?” Pointing to the final assailant, the young lady finished with the line the reporter really wanted. “Anyways, that’s when he carved ‘rapist’ into they foreheads. Dude’s a sick f…..”
The report stops flatly, crashing to black. Alyssa sits, long ago ceasing to fight her restraints, she’s in shock.
She had known her former fiancé was a professional wrestler, and that he was a capable fighter. She’d seen him destroy the knee of a would be assailant at a bar years before, but this?
He himself had told her he had done some questionable things whilst grief stricken and acting as a Judge on behalf of the Justices, but this? This was not the man who had shared her bed, was it?
A half a dozen other similar reports followed, eventually christening him ‘the Bankhead Boogeyman’.
Each time, ‘he’ appeared, it was the same story. Usually, but not always, it was a female.
Each time he came to the aid of someone in danger from seemingly insurmountable opposition.
Each time ‘he’ was increasingly brutal, but stopped short of taking life.
Each time, ‘he’ left a message.
And to make sure the message was received, he left it carved into the flesh of the would-be aggressor. He was labelling them. One at a time, he was labelling them.
The wicked would bare their crimes etched upon their skin for the rest of their days. They would carry them wherever they went.. Just as he did.
“You will go to Atlanta and you will find him and bring him back unharmed. Anything less than that voids our agreement. You will be released, given a way to contact us and watched. Any attempt to contact authorities will result in severe penalties…” the projector jumps to life once more, pictures, recent pictures, of her family and friends flash upon the screen.
These weren’t staged pictures or even pics ripped from her social media. These showed the one message they needed her to understand. ‘They’ could get to anyone.
She understood completely, ‘they’ didn’t play games. If she didn’t do as she was instructed, their subtlety spoke volumes.
Failure meant death, sure, but not before she watched everyone she cared about suffer first.